


Reciprocal (Call a Spade a Spade)

by joisbishmyoga



Series: Reciprocal [1]
Category: Meitantei Conan | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Casual Sex, F/M, Genderbend, Shower Sex, girl tops, kinkmeme prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joisbishmyoga/pseuds/joisbishmyoga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From last year's DCMK kinkmeme on livejournal: alwaysawoman!Saguru/any (though preferably Heiji), "No one really believed her when she said she wanted to be a detective" (Or "Her mother blamed the Sherlock Holmes books")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reciprocal (Call a Spade a Spade)

**Author's Note:**

> Mormor means grandmother, not mother.
> 
> A MRS. degree is slang from the days when women in college were presumed to be there looking for husbands, not careers.

Mormor blamed the Sherlock Holmes books. Books had ruined her little daughter, to the point that the girl had gone into the sciences (!) -- and not respectably feminine sciences like nursing or botany, but physics (!!) --and gotten her Ph.D. and MRS. in _Tokyo_ (!!!) instead of at her native Uppsala.

(A lowly foreign police officer for a son-in-law, oh how cruelly could a girl break a mother's heart!)

Then she moved back to Europe, but not to Sweden, oh no, she had to move to London. _London_! What did London have for a young lady that Stockholm couldn't provide?

And then she'd gone and named her daughter Saga _and_ Saguru. Terrible, terrible name(s): what sort of life could the poor child expect, with names for seeing and searching and tales of long-lost days? Not the fulfillment a good husband and a lovely home full of children could, that was for certain.

Saga had heard her grandmother's litany of woes half her life, pretty much from the day she could understand Swedish until she moved to Tokyo to escape it. (And get rid of the jewelry, and the dresses, and the parties, and the _nice boys_ descended from all of Mormor's acquaintances. Not that the _nice boys_ were overly grabby, or sweaty-handed, or one of any number of tropes... but they were all so _similar_. All the same advanced classes and grades, all the same sports teams, all the same volunteer work, and every single one spoke only Swedish, English, and French. None of them seemed to have a passion for anything but getting into the same high-ranking set of colleges, either.)

She didn't have time to get her hair cut before uncovering her first case, so the first photograph to hit Japanese newspapers showed the Wolf of Europe in her beloved, but admittedly silly, Holmesian deerstalker. (It hid the unprofessionally messy ponytail she'd turned to since deducing that tidy, complex braids or updos of any sort made her look as frivolous and vapid as a Hollywood prom queen. Not worth the effort at ALL.)

The Kaitou Kid still managed to take her as seriously as any of the full-fledged officers. Perhaps moreso: her left breast still ached where he'd elbowed her in their scuffle for the gas mask. Either he hadn't realized she was female, or he hadn't thought she needed to be handled like glass. With his deduced observational skills... it was the latter.

It made Saguru feel a little bit warm inside, which helped mitigate her first day at school. She'd introduced herself with the exact time, mostly to delay having to look up from her pocketwatch and face the usual suspects. And they were indeed all the usual suspects, after allowing for hair and makeup regulations: insecurely trendy girls with catty stares, more comfortable girls flicking curious glances at her boyish hair and rounded eyes, all the boys staring at her chest (nevermind that there wasn't anything of note to see in the loose blouse) and at the hem of her skirt where it rode a few centimeters higher than most of the other, shorter girls... good lord, the blue-eyed boy near the back had nearly fallen off his chair.

And thus Hakuba Saguru met Kuroba Kaito.

-0-0-0

Saguru had been looking forward to the detective koshien. After months in Tokyo, she'd met only two people on her intellectual level even vaguely within her age range: Kuroba Kaito -- almost assuredly Kaitou Kid, which was both a shock and a disaster waiting to happen on both personal and professional levels -- and seven-year-old Edogawa Conan.

Then the entire excursion had turned out to be a farce, and worse, a trap. An unnecessary, lethal trap, unlike Edogawa's plan in Sunset Mansion. Koshimizu had had options, dammit. Demonstrations to police, a wrongful death suit, charges for libel and slander and criminal negligence-- there were any number of perfectly legal, ethical ways to stop Tokitsu before his lack of skill harmed someone else.

"I was trying to compliment you, you know," Saguru said, leaning against the doorframe.

Hattori Heiji cast a sour look over his shoulder, half-folded shirt hanging limp in his dark hands. "Yeah? Before or after ya started in on 'oh but I have so many more cases outside of Japan, you know, I'm real famous and awesome'?"

Saguru rolled her eyes. "Says the man who counted lost cats as cases. _Yes I heard that_ ," she said over Hattori's sharp ' _oi_!'. "And the answer, obviously, is 'before'. Or did you not hear the part where I'd been informed you were _quick-witted_?"

"Well... okay yeah maybe..."

Saguru smirked. "If I'd known you had daddy issues---"

" _Who the fuck said that?!_ "

"--I would've glossed it over and mentioned other things we have in common. Like our considerable experience when compared to Koshimitsu-san." She let her smirk sharpen. "Or our mutual distaste for Tokitsu-san's pride in having culprits suicide."

Hattori dumped the shirt into the bag and turned fully, crossing his arms and snarling, "Well that came back to bite him on the ass, now didn't it."

"I think we both agree that it shouldn't have come to this," Saguru pointed out. "How many alternatives to his murder have you thought of yet?"

"... Like half a dozen."

Saguru shrugged. "That's more than me. But you're more familiar with what's available in Japanese culture and law, of course."

Hattori reddened a little. "Y--yeah. I guess so."

Well, damn. That was almost cute. "You want to know something else we have in common?" Saguru asked.

"We both just got our asses creamed by Edogawa-kun?"

"Point, but no." Saguru's fingers tightened on the elbows of her suit sleeves, so that she wouldn't try to play with her short hair. "Though we did both leave our homes for a reason."

"Yeah, to show off."

"... I see." Well, Hattori did seem to have Edogawa. How the man managed to not feel like a babysitter all the time was beyond her. Then again, Edogawa was oddly mature for his age... But still. Saguru sighed, pushing herself upright, and shoved her hands in her pockets. She turned to leave, then paused. "Did you know..."

"What."

"I heard you first went to Tokyo looking for Kudou Shin'ichi."

Hattori froze. Then, quickly, he bit out, "Didn't find him."

"That's not the point. Until next time, Hattori-san." And, heart heavy in her breast, Saguru left.

Maybe she should've stayed in England.

-0-0-0

"How was the koshien, Saguru-kun?"

Saguru settled her satchel on the desk hooks, then gave Aoko a pained smile. "It was a disaster."

Of course Kuroba's head popped up at that. "Disaster?" he echoed, eyes as wide as Aoko's. "Didn't you put in a good showing?"

"Thank you so much for presuming I couldn't win," Saguru said dryly. "Had it been an honest koshien, my only competition would've been Edogawa-kun--"

"Who?" Aoko murmured, while Kaito's eyes went brighter with suppressed amusement.

"--but as it was, the entire situtation was a farce." She speared them with a sober stare. "You'll probably read about it in tomorrow's papers. There was a murder."

Aoko gasped. "Oh, Saguru-kun..."

Saguru quickly, quietly, summarized the trip for them, eyes out for unwanted listeners. By the time she finished, Aoko and Kuroba looked grim.

"So what about the other two?" Aoko asked, awkwardly trying to shift the subject. "The good guys, uh... Edogawa-san and Hattori-san, you said?"

Saguru tried not to make a face. "Edogawa-san is seven years old," she said flatly. "And Hattori-san..." How to put it? "... is a brash, hormonal, raging moron with daddy issues and all the maturity of said seven-year-old."

Kuroba and Aoko stared at her in shock. "... High praise," Kuroba finally said.

"Hormonal?" Aoko echoed.

"The other kind," Saguru explained quickly. "He broke through a locked door, destroying evidence, rather than look for a safer way in." She sighed. "So like I said. Disaster on all levels."

"I'm sorry," Aoko said, soft and earnest.

"Yeah, me too," Kuroba added. He paused for a long moment. Then, "... did you say the seven-year-old was your only competition?"

"BAKAITO!"

-0-0-0

So of course, Kid being the utter nuisance that he was, he scheduled the next heist in Osaka.

"You have gotta be shittin' me."

"A pleasure to see you too, Hattori-san," Saguru lied. She cast a dry glance over her shoulder, eyeing the Great Detective of the West. Battered jeans and a matching jacket made him look more like a mechanic than a great detective, and the old baseball cap didn't help. At least the green shirt was a decent color on him, and the jeans fit him well.

What? If she couldn't have friends, she could have eyes.

"And what brings you by?" Saguru asked archly. "The last I heard, your sole interest in Kaitou Kid was squiring Edogawa-kun about in his wake."

Hattori winced. "Okay, yeah, I kinda deserved that," he muttered, much to Saguru's shock. Then his eyes flicked up to meet hers. "What?" he snapped. "Didn't think I was smart enough to deduce your clues? Newsflash, you weren't bein' that subtle."

"I don't know what you're talking about." _Oh, way to deflect, Saga._

"You came to the koshien lookin' for friends, an' I sure threw that back into your face."

Saguru made a soft scoffing sound in her throat. "And how many times did Edogawa-kun have to kick you in the ankle to get you to realize that?"

" _None at all thanks very much_."

"I'd probably still find the bruising if I bothered to check, you mean." Saguru turned away, pulled out her phone, and started rereading her messages as if for the first time... though she kept a weather eye on Hattori.

Hattori growled and seethed and otherwise didn't so much as twitch in her direction. "I'm tryin' to apologize, all on my own even."

"Not interested." Now if she could just believe that, but Hattori was just... no. They'd be fighting more than they were friendly. It wasn't worth it.

Saguru checked the time. 8:24 pm. Ten minutes should be enough time to get into position--

"Bet you'd be interested if it was Kudou," Hattori snapped.

"I wouldn't know," Saguru said. "After all, we've never met." And with Kudou's recent seclusion, they never would. She snapped the phone shut and hurried off into the crowd, leaving a cursing Hattori behind.

She woke approximately forty-five minutes later, freezing from knee to hip, all through her aching arms, and along her back. Something heavy weighed down each tingling foot, and light glimmered blearily on the water far below.

Water?

Saguru blinked fully awake with a gasp, which pressed her ribs and hips against soft net-like lines all across her torso. A harness, she realized, patting herself down. One made of silk rope and carefully knotted to distribute the pressure of her own weight as evenly as possible. Over the harness, she wore a pair of silvery shorts that covered little more than underwear did, a flimsy clubbing shirt of royal blue fake silk that left her arms and back entirely bare, and heavy combat boots laced up to her knee.

Her underwear was missing.

"Kid is going to pay for this," she hissed.

"Preaching to the choir," Hattori said, from less than a meter away. Saguru jumped, sending herself swaying. "Cool it, geez. Sorry for startling you."

Saguru glared over her shoulder at him, then bit back a snicker.

"Go on, laugh, you know you want to. Get it aaaaaaall out."

"Pink is not your color," Saguru managed, before cracking up.

"I ain't much for miniskirts, either," Hattori drawled sourly. He was wearing a skintight lycra dress in a hot pink and black tiger stripe. The black stripes were nearly sheer, and although it had long sleeves, it was also cut low enough that Hattori's well-developed pectorals vaguely resembled cleavage. The skirt hit so high that Hattori couldn't relax in his harness, for fear of flashing the entire city upstream. His shoes had been swapped out for a strappy stiletto in the same hot pink, with matching pedicure.

Saguru couldn't stop giggling. "The hat certainly makes the outfit work."

"If he touched the hat, I'd kill him. For a value of kill that means lots and lots of bruising and maybe some jamming that goddamn monocle somewhere the sun don't shine." Hattori made a face. "And why the hell am I in the dress instead of you?!"

"Because," Saguru said, biting her lip, "I assure you, if you were in me I'd have you on criminal charges."

Hattori sputtered most gratifyingly. " _That's not what I meant and you know it!_ "

True, but she just couldn't resist. "Then I would presume it's because there's little amusement to be had in putting a girl in a dress. Even a monstrosity such as _that_."

Silence. ".... What?"

Saguru stared. No. No, no, no. "Oh my god, you are not this inobservant." He was. "I am trapped with the stupidest non-homicidal teenage detective on the planet."

" _Oi_!"

"How could you not notice?"

"I thought you looked like a really girly guy if it helps!"

Saguru growled in frustration and kicked him.

" _Ow_! You speak too formal to tell!" Hattori protested. "And your school uniform at the koshien was that foreign suit--"

"Excuse London Bridge for being progressive and sensible enough to allow trousers in the winter!"

"--And you don't even move like a girl--"

"I move like an _English_ girl!" Saguru snapped, kicking at him again and missing this time, making her harness spin.

Spotlights cut off their fight. "Hakuba-san! Hattori-san! Are you down there?"

Saguru sighed in relief. "Yes!" she called up. "Could you have some blankets ready when you bring us up? It's been rather cold down here."

"Of course, Hakuba-san!"

When they finally were cut free of the harnesses, blankets wrapped around them for modesty as much as warmth, and EMTs had checked them both for injuries and sent their shoes to forensics (the ropes and clothing would need to be sent from the hospital), they were left sitting on the ambulance gurneys while the EMTs filled out paperwork.

Finally, a moment to breathe.

Saguru breathed in the scent of hot tea, but didn't drink, letting it warm her hands through the styrofoam cup. Across from her, on his own gurney, Hattori did the same. The cuffs of the hot pink monstrosity peeked out of his shock blanket.

"I lied, you know."

Hattori blinked at her, gaze flicking to the concealing drapes of the blue clubbing shirt. "You're really a guy after all?"

"No, I'm a girl." Though he wouldn't find what he was looking for in the shirt's cowl neck. Too small, and not perky enough without a bra. "But I wouldn't necessarily bring criminal charges."

Hattori stared at her, completely baffled. It was a good look on him. Very amusing.

Then they were swarmed by EMTs once more, untouched tea taken away, and urged to lie on their backs as protective railings went up and safety belts got fastened.

"Waitaminute!" Heiji yelped as they were wheeled in opposite directions. "Did you just hit on me?!"

Saguru buried her face in the pillow and giggled all the way into the ambulance.

-0-0-0

No one had been able to find Saguru's clothes, but a generous nurse loaned her a dress ("It's old and inexpensive, please, I insist, I was going to donate it once the weather turns anyway," which was a terribly polite lie, because the dress was well-made and only a year out of fashion), and a muscular man with a broken foot gave her his geta ("Sorry about the mud; at least you'll get some use out of them, I certainly won't for the next few weeks."), and Saguru traded meishi cards with them and left under her own power shortly before dawn.

Hattori was waiting at the corner. Someone had found him blue scrubs to wear, but he'd been reduced to using several layers of paper foot covers over a pair of slippers instead of real shoes. "Huh," he said, eyeing her. "You really are a girl."

Saguru sighed. "I did tell you."

"No, I mean, it's obvious now," Hattori said. "A guy in a dress moves like a clown. Especially tall guys, they kinda do this hunchback thing like they think bad posture will make them look petite and girly. But you don't."

"So glad to meet with your approval," Saguru drawled.

"Also your geta bring me a lot closer to boob level."

".... I'm going to let that go this time, because I'm sure you're as sore and bruised as I am." Also she was starting to suspect Hattori had mild Asperger's. Maybe. Psychology was not her forté.

She continued on her way to the train station visible a few blocks away, geta clacking on the sidewalk, and Hattori fell into step beside her. They crossed a street in silence, then another, and then,

"... So were you really hitting on me?"

"I wouldn't kick you out of bed." Saguru shrugged. "Which is to say, you're hot, and I have it on hearsay that you aren't an idiot, though I have yet to gain the evidence."

Heiji growled in frustration. "Why do you keep _doing_ that?! Are you just that much of an asshole?"

"I'm _reciprocating_ ," Saguru snapped, chin held high.

"You're overcompensating. I get it, I was a dick; you were a dick right back." Hattori exhaled through his nose, long and loud and exasperated. "And we're so busy being dicks at each other, we keep needing other people to save our asses."

Point taken. "Edogawa-kun last month, and the Task Force this time." She really didn't want to endure either humiliation again. Particularly the part where she could've gotten an innocent charged with murder. They really had to do something about this, otherwise they'd end up certain to ruin a case someday. 

The answer popped out almost without thought. "Come back with me."

"... Are you hitting on me again?"

"Maybe we can get this," how to phrase it? _"interpersonal tension_ out of our systems."

Hattori choked. "Tension. That's some way to put it. All right."

Saguru nearly blinked in surprise. "Yes?"

"... Yeah."

-0-0-0

The business hotel Saguru was staying at was a simple affair. Her Western-style room was carpeted in a rich ebony brown, and the walls and linens were plain white. Saguru turned on the overhead lights, leaving them a bit under full brightness, then stepped out of her geta and into the room proper. The carpeting was strongly textured underfoot, almost massaging, and she curled her toes into the rough weave. Mmm, that felt so good after the day she'd had... "You can have the first shower," she said.

Hattori dropped his second makeshift shoe in a rustling, papery thump. "Nah. It's your room."

"What, and leave you a chance to panic and run off?" Saguru said, glancing over her shoulder to smirk. Oh god she was really doing this.

Hattori smirked right back, harder and sharper. "I know what you're trying to do. If you don't wanna, just say so and I am outta your hair." Something shifted in his face, the smirk going lopsided. "Anytime, I mean it. Blue balls from hell never hurt anyone."

Saguru could've refuted the argument, but not in the spirit he meant it. She carded a hand across the nape of her neck -- whoops, didn't need to do that, her hair wasn't long anymore -- as she turned away. "Get my zipper?"

A pause, then cloth rustled and fell. A moment later, warm, thick fingertips brushed against the base of her neck. "It's a tiny pull," Hattori mumbled, fumbling a bit with shaking fingers before he got a hold of the little tab. The zipper buzzed faintly as he pulled, cool air following in its wake slowly down her back.

Saguru was suddenly very aware of her lack of underwear. Hattori would be seeing nothing but unbroken, pale skin from nape to tailbone, where the zipper ended. _Feeling_ nothing but skin, she corrected herself, as he settled his thumbs at the small of her back and trailed them upward and out, under the fabric of the dress until he could hook them under the dress' shoulders.

Saguru surreptitiously unbuttoned the cuffs, just as Hattori slid the dress off her shoulders, and straightened her arms to let it fall. Fabric puddled around her ankles, and Hattori whistled, though not lecherously.

"Either you bruise way easy, or Kid got rougher on you than he did me."

Saguru glanced down at herself. Long, wide stripes crisscrossed her torso, already blackening. "Neither, actually," she said, turning. As she'd suspected, Hattori had doffed the shirt from his scrubs, and had similar striping coming up. His complexion was such that the bruising looked considerably fainter, though. As did his blush, when his gaze dipped and then tried to skitter back up to her face. "I don't bruise 'way easy'," Saguru explained, though she was fairly certain whatever she said was so much meaningless buzzing in Hattori's ears right now, "however it is unmistakably vivid when I do."

"Uh huh."

"You could attempt to admire them verbally as well as visually."

"Uh h-- what?" Hattori's eyes finally flicked up to meet hers.

Saguru felt her smirk widen. "My breasts. You seemed to be hoping to make their acquaintance. In which case a few compliments might be in order." She steeled herself, then looked pointedly down. There was a notable tent in Hattori's trousers. "Found one."

"How--" Hattori swallowed, then resolutely kept his eyes on hers and managed a grin. "How many do I need?"

"Compliments aren't coins and I'm not a vending machine," she said, not without some amusement. Then she tapped Hattori's hip, giving him a little push. "Come on. Showers first."

The bathroom was small and plain, with a Western-style shower and a pair of thick towels on a shelf over the toilet. Half the sink was over the tub, which was little more than an ankle-high ledge delineating the drainage area from the tiled floor. It was barely big enough for one, much less two. 

Hattori clearly figured that out himself, and left his trousers behind in the genkan. He shut the door, and suddenly there was a lot of warm brown skin and firm muscles brushing against Saguru. Large, rough hands settled on her narrow hips, and warm, firm flesh slid _very presumptively_ between her thighs as Hattori bent past her to turn the shower on.

Saguru elbowed him. "Hey. Rude."

Hattori turned the faucet handle as far as it'd go. "I got an idea," he explained, backing off and maneuvering them both to the side. Saguru flinched when her back hit the cold tiled wall.

"Does this idea involve scalding ourselves senseless?" she asked, because the shower was already starting to steam the tiny room up.

Hattori's hands rubbed down her thighs. "Nope. I'll turn it down when we finally wash off." Then he leaned back and grabbed a washcloth off the stacked towels, muscles flexing as he transferred it to his other hand and soaked it under the spray.

The first brush of the cloth made Saguru shudder. It was a light touch, steaming hot and wet, rough terrycloth sliding from throat to breast along one of the purpling lines from the harness. It left a cool trail in its wake... and then Hattori followed it with his tongue and Saguru gasped.

Hattori chuckled against a sensitive spot where two lines crossed high at the side of her ribs -- Saguru did _not_ squeak -- and water splashed over her stomach as he squeezed the washcloth out. Then he took it away, returning it to soak freshly hot water up, and bent to trail his fingertips and tongue over the bruised V under one breast.

More hot water, the rough cloth following the long criss-crossed marks around her breasts without touching them. Calloused fingers and slick tongue skated over her flesh in its wake, leaving prickling, shivering trails of goosebumps from the decidedly confused sensations: was it hot or cold? rough or soft? the morbid fascination children had for poking their own bruises, was it pleasure or pain, and was it better or worse that the attention Hattori -- _Hattori_ of all people! -- was paying was so much more gentle?

Saguru's fingers clenched rhythmically, futilely, against the wet tile as Hattori got down on one knee.

He didn't reach for the thick curls at her groin. The washcloth, freshened once again, ran along the groove between torso and leg: first one side, then the other, and then across the round knot mark between her navel and pubis.

Where the hell was Hattori getting this much self-control?

Hattori grinned against her stomach. "Kendo," he answered, and oh Saguru said that out loud. He splashed cooling water perfunctorily over her legs, then lifted her hips away from the wall. "Turn around a sec."

The washcloth splashed water over the backs of her legs, then up on the small of her back. There was hardly any striping on Saguru's backside -- most of her weight had been canted forward, and the ropes had barely touched her back at all -- and Hattori drew his hands and tongue over her flanks before standing once again, pinning her to the wall like a heavy, living cloak.

His lips brushed against the knob of Saguru's spine, where her neck flared into muscled shoulders. "You're shorter than me," she murmured.

"An' yet I'm so much more bearable when I open my mouth." Hattori smacked one hip lightly, failing to drown out Saguru's snorted ' _that's_ debatable'. "C'mon, into the tub before we steal all the hotel's hot water."

He turned down the temperature as Saguru stepped over the low rim, then got in behind her and bumped her into the spray.

He was just as patient and gentle soaping her up as he'd been rinsing her bruises, but he did make her work to get the washcloth for her turn, yanking it playfully out of her reach until she pinned him to the wall and made him give it up. He was still laughing when she dropped to her knees and bit at his navel, making his breath catch and stutter to a halt.

Saguru glanced up to see him staring down at her, green eyes hot and dark. His penis just barely brushed against her jaw, in time with the pulse gleaming rhythmically under the bathroom's fluorescents. She huffed a bit of amusement. "Visual much?"

Hattori mimed clicking an imaginary camera down at her.

Saguru smacked his leg lightly -- "Memory only," -- and finished soaping him up. Then she slid around him, pressing him into the spray once more, and held him there more by the power of bare breasts on his chest than anything else. "Your refractory period," she said, tapping one finger just a scarce centimeter from his groin. "Is it typical for your age?"

"... Yeah? I guess." Hattori blinked water out of his eyes, ignoring the thick lock of hair falling over his forehead and streaming water down his nose. "I'm fast enough, why?"

Wasn't it obvious? Not that she knew male anatomy past scientific papers, but, "I want penetration," she informed Hattori, encircling him in her fingers. "I do not want to wait. However, I also," she squeezed lightly, demonstratively, "do not want you to finish too quickly. Therefore, if your refractory period is slow, or a second orgasm in quick succession will feel unpleasant to you..."

"Okay yeah I am _all about_ round two no intermission."

Saguru grinned, then turned her faculties to logistics. There was nothing slicker than the steaming water to ease Saguru's grip. Nothing but her mouth -- which, no, she'd knelt at Hattori's feet enough for one night -- and... 

Ah.

She angled her hips away just long enough to tip Hattori's penis outward, then slid him into the warm confines between vulva and thighs, damp curls coming to rest against the sparser curls at the base of his groin.

He thrust once, involuntarily, before catching her by the hips. "You realize we don't got a condom, right?"

"Birth control."

"... An' yer just gonna trust I'm clean?"

Saguru rolled her hips despite his grip, making him choke. "Would you have let it get this far if you weren't clean? Because I don't know about you," yes she did, the koshien was evidence enough of that, "but I have an ethical problem with endangering people for kicks."

"Okay. O... kay. I'm just gonna--" and he wrapped both arms around her, pinning the two of them together, and thrust. A little shiver of muted pleasure thrummed up into Saguru's belly, from the pressured glide over her vulva and so near to her clitoris. "-- work like this. Yeah."

They were close enough to the wall that Saguru pinned them again, which gave Hattori the leverage to start pounding away with tiny grunts. It was good, even dimmed like that, Hattori's expression and heavy breathing doing as much for Saguru as the movement between her legs. She leaned in and licked his exposed throat, feeling the buzz in his vocal cords and the water on his skin. She couldn't tell if it tasted of anything other than water, but the texture of his skin could not be mistaken for anything but itself.

Her hands settled on his broad shoulders; she rubbed her breasts over his pectorals -- nipples catching on nipples -- and he shuddered against her and came, spurting body-warm but not shower-hot between her legs.

It was very still in the shower once he finished. Just their breathing, and the sound of the water, and the unsatisfied warmth that could wait for Hattori to return to his senses.

Saguru had semen in that unnamed space between leg and buttock, near her anus. Hattori's semen. On her. It was somehow as stunning to her as Hattori's orgasm appeared to have been to him.

_Mormor would be appalled._

The very fact that she had that thought almost made her burst out in laughter. She managed to stifle it to a lopsided grin, one which Hattori completely misinterpreted when he finally loosened his grip and met her eyes once more, penis slipping free.

"That much fun, huh?" He matched her grin with his own, a faint blush dusting over his nose, then splashed water up her backside to wipe the semen away. Saguru bit her lip at his warm, firm fingers slipping up _there_ , gasping a little when he wiggled them, halfway between tickling and arousing.

"You make very-- " her breath hitched, "-- amusing faces when you come." And she slipped free of his grip, grabbing towels and blotting herself dry with the smaller hand towel. The other, she took with her, dodging Hattori's attempt to grab it in a flick of terrycloth.

He followed her out of the bathroom, scrubbing his hair dry with the remaining hand towel, as she draped the lone full-size bath towel over the top sheet. The down comforter was a pillowy white mound on the floor, curling around the base of the bed; it was a shame they were so difficult to wash, because she'd really rather have sex on the comforter than a towel. But they were, and she did have to sleep in the bedsheets, so a towel it was.

Hattori pressed up against her side and tried to tumble her onto the bed. She twisted and landed on top, grinning. "Best view," she explained -- not entirely accurately, but it was plausible enough -- and she tapped his wrists onto the mattress on either side of his head.

Well. Maybe she just doesn't need to claim _whose_ view was best. Hattori was splayed out under her, all dark glistening muscles and gleaming highlights, the contrast and reflected light from the pristinely bleached bedclothes doing wonders for his already-impressive body. His cock was already starting to firm up again as she swung a leg over his hips and settled her weight high on his upper thighs. _Very_ high: her curls were damp with more than water against Hattori's scrotum.

Hattori's darkening expression suddenly cleared up. Then he stretched, arms up over his head, and crossed his wrists over each other. "Forget the cuffs?" he asked, amused.

Hm. Tempting. But, "Not tonight." They'd probably both had enough of ropes for tonight. "You have such good hands."

Hattori took the hint. He slid both his nice, large, warm hands up her legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and one settled over the wing of her hip while the other brushed over her curls. Fingers leading the way, he cupped her pubis and then went deeper between the slick folds, then his thumb settled right on her clitoris as one finger pressed inside.

She'd have called him out on his presumptiousness if it wasn't exactly perfectly right. She rocked on his thumb and fingers slowly, pressing one hand over her stomach just above her pubic hair (it probably looked like she was trying to feel his finger inside, spurring him to add another, but she was massaging the internal structures of her clitoris, stimulating the so-called G-spot with more accuracy than Hattori was likely to find, and it added to the slow tide of her arousal), then rested her other hand on his hardening penis. It surged gently against the faint weight, flushed erectile tissue transmitting his pulse to her sensitive palm.

His fingers were vastly unlike any toy she'd ever used. _Lifelike_ was no substitute for _living_ , and a vibrator was entirely different from the articulated movements when he moved. She'd never been able to reach from the same angle or at this depth, either; the width and length of his two fingers felt nothing like her own--

" _Ah_!" she gasped, arching. Hattori crooked his fingers ruthlessly forward again, and this time she clenched her legs around his hips. What had she been thinking, about Hattori's chances at locating her G-spot--? If he kept this up, it was going to be a very good-- very quick _too quick_ \-- " _Goddammit Hattori!_ " she cried out as she came.

He was a little wild with panic when she managed to open her eyes again, breathing hard and still full with his now-unmoving fingers. "That was a good goddammit, right?" he asked. "It looked like a good one, but."

"Yes, Hattori." She slid off his fingers with a wet sound and pushed her sweaty bangs out of her eyes. "That was a good goddammit, so just let me--" She managed to angle his penis almost straight up, and sank down on it with a shuddering flutter of muscle. He was wider than his two fingers, of course, but it wasn't unbearable and the look on his face was amazing. "Thumb. Here," she said, pressing his wet hand where she needed it, and holding it mostly in place as she started to move.

She came again quickly, still keyed up from her first orgasm. Slowing her movements didn't turn out to change much: Hattori had her pinned by his grip on her hip and his arms on her thighs, and he thrust up into her shortly and deeply, restrained by her weight and his lack of leverage. She let his wet hand go, catching herself on his abs, and he grabbed her other hip and pounded up faster. He grunted with effort, low tiny sounds of pleasure, and his eyes were scrunched shut when he shoved in deep and stayed, shuddering through his own orgasm.

When he finally went slack under her, she followed his hips down, not wanting to let him slide out just yet. She traced her fingertips along the cut of his muscles, feeling his breathing return to normal, indulging in a bit of -- for lack of a better term -- sentiment, the tactile beauty of flesh that she hadn't caressed so much as conquered.

(How was it that Hattori of all people let her do that? One would think he'd be completely stuck on the macho stupidity that was endemic to hotheads everywhere, it seemed. But he'd been a contradiction in everything so far. Considerate and inconsiderate in the most unpredictable ways, patient and impatient, a moron at some of the most obvious daily requirements and a genius at unravelling subtle plots-- 

Oh no. She was going to be stuck on him for ages now, wasn't she.)

Eventually, though, gravity took its course, and she slid off him to stretch out on the bed. She felt so loose and free, even with her mind fixating itself on the newest puzzle in her life--

"Hey."

"Mm?"

Hattori was blushing a bit when she looked over at him, staring up at the ceiling in completely false nonchalance. "So I was wondering. You weren't planning to sleep tonight, were you?"

She glanced at the clock. It was nearly dawn, so, "Not anymore, I wasn't."

"Can I... um..."

"You cannot seriously want to go again."

Green eyes pinned her in place. " _I_ ain't gettin' off again, no," he agreed. His blush darkened. "But can I lick myself out of you?"

 _Oh_. Saguru felt her own blush rise up. "You are one surprise after another," she said, but she pulled a pillow under her head and spread her legs anyway.

As Hattori eagerly settled between her thighs, bright eyes fixed on hers as he leaned in to her groin, Saguru thought, _I almost want to thank Kaitou Kid for this_.

(Except not, because she was sure he hadn't meant it to happen.)

-0-0-0

Saguru entered her classroom the next morning, set her satchel down on her desk, planted her hands on Kuroba's desk, and loomed over its occupant. "Good morning, Kuroba-kun," she said sweetly through her teeth.

Kuroba hunched a little bit behind his newspaper. "Ah... good morning, Hakuba-san?" he tried.

"You're a magician. Perhaps you could shed a bit of light upon something for me." Behind her, Saguru sensed more than saw Aoko arrive. "Kaitou Kid somehow, mysteriously, changed all my clothing, put a safety harness on me underneath said clothing, and mislaid my bra. Which is quite the expensive item of clothing, I might add, but I digress. In your _professional opinion_ , how did he manage to do that without violating my modesty?"

"... Er."

"Perhaps, in your professional opinion, he would be capable of performing such a feat," Saguru purred. "Is that something you can agree or disagree to, without violating your so-called magician's code?"

Kuroba _eeped_ in response. "I'm sure he could manage that! Without peeking!"

"Ah. I see." Saguru straightened, just enough to let up on the pressure on Kuroba for a moment... then swooped in for the kill. "However," she hissed, nose-to-nose with Kuroba, "could he do the same while also _stealing my panties_?"

Kuroba vanished in a puff of smoke.

-0-0-0

At the next heist, Saguru had a quiet word with Edogawa-kun.

Edogawa-kun was a chivalous and well-mannered child.

Kuroba came to school the next day with half his face swollen nearly black, and a tale of pint-sized soccer hooligans on his evening walk.  



End file.
